Movie Reviews

#1198 – Mean Streets

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

I recently watched this film again, also through the Criterion Channel, after not having seen it since college. I remember when I watched it that first time and thinking, “This movie looks cheap. New York City looks so grimy, and the camera is all over the place.” At that time, I naively considered these flaws of the filmmakers, and enough to make me dismiss the film as a whole. Obviously, I have since changed my tune. Those things still remain, but some are due to budgetary restrictions and therefore cannot affect the merit of the movie as a whole, and some are stylistic choices. Most Scorsese gangster movies have a crisp look to them. NYC isn’t the problem, it’s the people who are grimy. Mean Streets informs us that it’s both, and that, in part, was the intention.

Charlie (Harvey Keitel) is a good boy – he works for his mafia-connected uncle, and therefore has to do some unsavory things, but he’s very concerned with his sense of morality and the salvation of his immortal soul. So concerned that, every time he sees fire, he tries to touch it in hopes he can withstand the heat. Anyone who has ever touched a hot stove knows that doesn’t go well for him. Since the Catholic Church will not absolve him of his sins without him actually confessing them, he attempts to earn his salvation another way.

Enter Johnny Boy, played by a nearly brand-new Robert De Niro. Johnny Boy is the cousin of Charlie’s epileptic girlfriend, Teresa, but more importantly, he’s a ne’er-do-well on the path to eternal damnation. Charlie sees Johnny Boy as his ticket to Heaven. If he can get Johnny to walk the straight and narrow, there’s no way Saint Peter would turn him away. The only problem is that the more Charlie interferes with Johnny Boy’s erratic way of living, the worse it gets. Johnny Boy feels coddled. Some people just don’t want to be saved. His antics not only set his life on a downward spiral, but he begins taking everyone else down with him – particularly Charlie. It all comes to a head in a drive-by shooting in those mean streets. Johnny Boy, Teresa and Charlie are all hurt, but Johnny Boy walks away into an alley where the red, flashing lights of a police car hint at his final destination, and Charlie walks out into the street, baptized in the waters of a broken fire hydrant. Only Teresa is unable to get out on her own, more damaged than the others, requiring the EMTs that get to the scene first to help ease her out of the car. Teresa and Charlie will survive, but while he kneels in the street, and images of the sinful life he is potentially leaving passes before his eyes, Charlie doesn’t even acknowledge the condition Teresa is in. And in that moment, that final scene, we understand how selfish Charlie’s quest to earn his own salvation truly is.

As I said before, my views on this film have changed significantly. Where as once I held Mean Streets with slight disdain, even considering it lower-tier Scorsese, I have now nearly flipped that completely. Mean Streets isn’t just a great film, it’s also pure Scorsese, through and through. It’s full of Catholic guilt, religious imagery (a chat between Charlie and Johnny Boy in a graveyard, where Johnny lays on a grave and Charlie leans against a cross, is particularly excellent), an internal wrestle between saint and sinner, a killer 60s pop soundtrack (one of the first examples of a jukebox soundtrack; the infamous bar brawl scene is set to the Marvelettes’ “Please, Mr. Postman”), tracking shots (that same bar brawl), and a whole lot of New York City.

I read that Scorsese wrote the screenplay for this film (not something he does often) after a talk with actor/director John Cassavetes, where Cassavetes criticized his previous film, Boxcar Bertha, for being uninspired. His advice to a young Scorsese was to make films he’s passionate about. You can feel the passion in Mean Streets. I argue you will not find a film so near and dear to Scorsese’s heart again until 2019’s The Irishman. It’s reflective and thoughtful. It’s genuine. It’s a filmmaker in the middle of insecurity, discovering his voice and, somehow, confidently firing on all cylinders. Martin Scorsese’s third film is, dare I say, a masterpiece, and sits alongside Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, and GoodFellas in the discussion for his best.

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

At the time of my writing this, Martin Scorsese’s latest picture, Killers of the Flower Moon, is roughly three months away from release. Early buzz for the film ranges from “Scorsese’s masterpiece” to “a fantastic film, if a little too long”. Between the collaborations (Scorsese, De Niro and DiCaprio, not to mention Lily Gladstone), and my own personal interest in the story (I read the book, I’m from Oklahoma, and I have an unhealthy obsession with Native American history and culture), it’s preemptively my most-anticipated release of the year. What better time, then, to take a deep dive into Scorsese’s hefty filmography? This is an odd starting point, considering what Scorsese’s famous for, but it was available on The Criterion Channel for the month of July. So, here it is: Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.

Martin Scorsese’s fourth feature film puts the director into uncharted waters of his oeuvre: the romantic comedy. Apparently, this film wasn’t even on Scorsese’s radar at the time. Ellen Burstyn, who plays the titular Alice, and won an Academy Award for Best Actress to show for it, received a copy of the script from her agent after being tasked with finding a complicated woman for her to play. After reading the script, she went on the hunt for a young, visionary director to helm it. It was Scorsese’s previous film, Mean Streets, that was garnering all the buzz at the time, and after viewing a screening, Burstyn decided he was the man for the job. Warner Brothers agreed, and so began Scorsese’s journey into major studio filmmaking.

Alice is a stay-at-home mom caught between her needy and verbally abusive husband and her preteen boy who is discovering that “brat” is a viable personality. Alice doesn’t have to keep the peace very long when her husband dies in a work-related accident. His death, however, leaves Alice and her son without any prospects or security, so they hit the road, heading towards California, so she can realize her dream of being a singer – a dream that was completely derailed by married life.

Her financial straits demand they stop in Phoenix to earn enough money to make the rest of their trip. Initially, she can only get work as a waitress, but through her determination, she is able to secure a job as a lounge singer. She captures the heart of the young cowboy, Ben (played by a young Harvey Keitel), and he sweeps her up into a whirlwind romance that is going great until she discovers he’s also abusive. Oh, and also, he’s married. Yikes! In the middle of a confrontation between her, Ben, and Ben’s wife, Alice decides it’s time to continue to Monterey. They get as far as Tucson before they are forced to stop again.

In Tucson, Alice gains employment as a waitress at Mel’s diner, working alongside the outspoken, headstrong Flo, and timid-to-the-point-of-collapse Vera. The chaos in the diner leads to some of the funniest scenes in the film, especially when Vera’s involved. Alice also meets a divorced rancher, David (Kris Kristofferson), and they fall in love. “Oh, sweet mystery of life, at last I’ve found you!” It’s days of wine and roses until David finally does the seemingly unforgiveable: he spanks Alice’s son. Trust me, over the course of the movie, I spent more time with Alice’s son than David did, and he’s lucky a spanking is all he got. When he runs away after his reprimanding, Alice frantically searches all of Tucson for him, determined to find him and get him to Monterey. However, when she finds her son, they have a heart-to-heart, and Alice realizes that she’s happy in Tucson with David, and so is her son, so they make the decision to stay.

The script and Burstyn’s feminist take on the character makes Scorsese an interesting choice when considering modern criticism of his filmography (i.e. the sidelining of his female characters). I suspect her decision to choose a man over her dreams won’t sit as well with the most recent wave of feminists as maybe it did in the 70s. However, I think one of the things this movie does well is show growth in Alice’s character. At the beginning, she doesn’t have a choice in the direction of her own life, or at least she doesn’t believe she does, but at the end of the film, it’s completely her decision to stay or go. The other thing this movie does well is lean into the shmaltzy look and feel of older soap operas and 1940s melodramas. It gives the movie character and a charm that it’s mostly lacking.

This brings me to my biggest criticism of the film: it’s surprisingly bland. Without its color and occasional cutesy attitude, I doubt I would have made it to the end. Ellen Burstyn does great, but it’s far from her best performance (I suspect the Academy gave her the award for this film because they realized their mistake in not giving it to her for The Exorcist), and with the exception of Flo and Vera, all the other actors are wooden. I’ve never considered Kris Kristofferson a good actor and he doesn’t change my mind here. The kid is the most frustrating part of the entire film, though that may not be the actor’s fault. The character is insufferable, and I have never wished for a worse end to a kid in a movie since Mildred Pierce.

In the end, the movie is passable, and cute enough to give a look if you have the time, but don’t go out of your way to make time for it unless you’re doing a Scorsese marathon like I am. Mean Streets was a glimpse of what Scorsese could become, but Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore is someone else’s movie tossed into his lap.

Gran Turismo: Based On A True Story

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

Did you know this movie is based on a true story? I was unsure how to address the title of my review because all of the posters for this movie say “GRAN TURISMO” in big white or black letters across the top, and in much smaller letters, somewhere below that, it says “Based on a True Story”. Like it’s a tagline or an afterthought. But when I went to purchase my ticket, it lists the title as “Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story”, as if that were the full title. They really want you to know that this movie is (somewhat) based on a true story, and who can fault them for that? It’s an excellent piece of marketing. I wish other movies were that forthright with their origins. Titanic: Inspired by True Events. Schindler’s List: Based on a Book Based on a True Story. Braveheart: Total Male Fantasy, but William Wallace was a Real Guy.

This movie was fine, and more like the kind of “fine” your significant other is when you ask them how they’re doing, knowing full well they’re not doing “fine”, than actually fine. Which is a bummer, because the fact that this film is “Based on a True Story” makes it such an interesting idea for a film. The basics, for those not in-the-know, is a young man who is really good and obsessed with the Gran Turismo video game series, gets the opportunity to put his gaming skills to the test by becoming a real racecar driver, through a training academy set up by Nissan and PlayStation. It’s the story of a group of outsiders that have to prove they belong in a world where no one wants them. The premise is fine – actually fine – but that’s the best it can do.

There are some positives to be sure. The movie editing is tight and quick, all gas and no breaks, which keeps the movie exciting and suspenseful. I was certainly on the edge of my seat the whole time. It felt like a rollercoaster or like a game of Gran Turismo (I can only presume, since I’m not really a fan of racing games – not even Mario Kart), but at the very end, as I was walking out to my car, I wondered how I could have spent the entire movie so enthralled and yet walk away so nonchalant. Then, it dawned on me that I didn’t care how the movie turned out, I didn’t care about the characters, and it merely gave me an adrenaline rush. So, I guess I got my money’s worth.

It’s a struggle when talking about film sometimes, because film is sometimes highly artistic, and sometimes it’s solely mindless entertainment. I love a good rollercoaster, but the thrill is certainly a fleeting one. Likewise, Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story is fun and exciting, but it’s not going to linger with you unless you buy another ticket. But I’m digressing.

Some of the acting performances are worth mentioning. David Harbour, of Stranger Things fame, remains the highlight of anything he’s in. He plays Jack Salter – a former racer who lost his mojo and now works as a lowly mechanic until he gets roped into teaching these gamer losers how to be winners. And while we’ve seen his type of character thousands of times, Harbour ignites in every scene he’s in. Djimon Hounsou, who plays Steve Mardenborough, does the best with what he’s given, playing another stereotype – the father to our main character, Jann (it’s a soft “J”), who just doesn’t believe his son’s silly dreams until a tearful reunion makes him see the light. And then, there’s Orlando Bloom. Orlando Bloom is…there. In the movie. Seriously, what happened to that guy? I guess I just don’t love him if he’s not defying physics as an elf archer or the dull pirate of a two-pirate crew.

The two biggest things I have against Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story, are our main character and an emotional detour or pit stop that’s supposed to set up and lead into a triumphant final race. Whatever you want to call it, it pumps the breaks on the whole thing.

*Spoilers beyond this point. If you don’t want to be spoiled, scroll down to where you see a message similar to this.*

Okay, so everything is going great for Jann. He’s got his racing license, he’s coming up fourth and fifth place in races consistently, and he’s looking to get onto the victory podium. And then, suddenly, in the middle of a race, his car goes over a hill and gets too much air, causing him to flip the car and go crashing through the track and into some spectators. One of them dies, and Jann is informed of this when he wakes up from his mini coma. Realizing what has happened, he is understandably sad, and he may never race again. Racing is dangerous, after all.

My problem with this portion of the movie is two-fold. One, it’s so out-of-nowhere. Jann is cruising down the track, making a name for himself, and then boom! People die! And you know you should be sad because the music that plays in the background is sad. If you’ve been enjoying the movie so far, you’re going to get whiplash. And maybe you can say that’s the intention of the filmmakers, but I don’t think it is, at least not entirely. My second problem is that this crisis is completely unnecessary to the film. It adds a bit of internal conflict for Jann (which doesn’t work, and I’ll get to that in a minute), that’s resolved five minutes later. The movie had enough conflict to keep people engaged without the crash. You get the sense that the filmmakers felt they had to include it just because it was such a tragic accident that really happened. They rush through it, telling Jann and the audience that it was a freak accident and no one’s fault (again, this is Sony and Nissan making this movie about Sony and Nissan), and there’s no real closure. It just goes away as quickly and jarringly as it came.

*Spoilers over with. You may continue.*

My other main gripe with this movie is our main character, Jann. First of all, I don’t think the actor, Archie Madekwe, is particularly good. Granted, he seems fairly new, and maybe he’ll keep growing and improving. However, I really feel like he was fighting a losing battle in this movie. Jann is a real person, and so Archie has to pass for someone you can easily find videos online to compare to, but the filmmakers also want you to see yourself as Jann. He’s a self-insert for all the gamers and dreamers out there, and so it becomes difficult to give Jann any personality. The most we get is his love of Kenny G and Enya, and that he’s sad when tragedy strikes, but he appears sad most of the time, so it’s hard to tell the difference. This idea of the main character as a stand-in for the viewer seems to be a newer trend in movies, and it really has its origins in video games, so it kind of makes sense here, but it gets in the way of storytelling and character development, causing both to suffer.

In the end, Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story does most of what it sets out to accomplish. And again, it is a white-knuckle thrill ride for the majority of its 2 hour and 15 minute runtime. It’s an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon. But that’s all it is. Don’t let that “based on a true story” moniker rev you up too much. If you do, you’re likely to crash and burn.

Rating: 4/10

#1186 – The Ranown Westerns

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

This collection of five films from the Criterion Collection showcases the bulk of collaborations between under-the-radar B-Western director, Budd Boetticher, and longtime Western hero, Randolph Scott. The films included are The Tall T, Decision at Sundown, Buchanan Rides Alone, Ride Lonesome, and Comanche Station. All five films feature Randolph Scott as the lone wanderer with his own moral code to live by, and relatable villains. We’ll take them one at a time.

The Tall T
This one is based on a story from Elmore Leonard, the writer of many classic Western tales, such as 3:10 to Yuma, Valdez is Coming, and Last Stand at Sable River. Scott plays Pat Brennan, a rancher with a “place of his own” that he hopes to build up into something great. We see him wandering through the opening credits and stopping at a way station to begin our story. The place is operated by a man and his little boy, and Brennan promises to bring the little boy back some candy when he returns from visiting the nearby town. Unfortunately, after leaving the town, Brennan loses his horse and is forced to hop on a stagecoach with the daughter of a rich mining baron and her new husband. The coach stops at the way station where three men, Frank Usher, Billy Jack, and the unfortunately-named, Chink, have taken over and murdered the man and his boy. Richard Boone plays Frank Usher, and while his young henchman are a little too trigger happy, Usher has a code of ethics similar to Brennan, only he’s willing to let innocents die to get what he wants. Through their conversations, they both realize that, in another life, they might have been friends.

Usher is looking for a big payout so he can live the life he wants, and he seems to have stumbled into it when the newlywed husband turns out to be a craven, self-serving piece of trash. He admits his wife’s father is rich and is willing to go and deliver a ransom note to the baron in exchange for his own freedom. Once the plan is set in motion, and the husband is no longer needed, he gets a bullet in the back, courtesy of Frank Usher. The justification being that the husband was no-good for abandoning his wife, and at that point, it’s hard for the audience to disagree.

The film has a tight runtime of 78 minutes, and Burt Kennedy’s script is an economic tension-builder that matches the best of them and shows us what makes the post-World War II Westerns such a joy to watch.

Decision At Sundown
The second film in this set takes the tropes of these Westerns and turns them on their head. Scott, this time, plays Bart Allison, a man who rides into the town of Sundown with one thing on his mind: vengeance. He’s after the man he blames for his wife’s suicide, Tate Kimbrough, and he’s not leaving until he kills him. Lucky for Allison, Kimbrough has the entire town of Sundown in a vice grip, and they aren’t too happy with the way he’s running things.

Once Allison arrives in town, the movie jumps right into the action. Allison stops Kimbrough’s wedding and a shootout ensues. The rest of the movie is a true Western standoff – the town is completely quiet, all doors are shut, and the heroes and villains yell at each other from around the corners of buildings. However, in that time, we learn that Bart Allison is far from the hero we expect from Randolph Scott. He is fueled and blinded by his hatred. He refuses to believe his good friend, Sam, when he is told that his wife was not a good woman to begin with and never loved him. His code of ethics has been swapped for revenge, and revenge alone. And when even the sheriff of Sundown gets in his way, well, that’s just too bad for the sheriff.

Kimbrough is obviously not a good guy, so we’re happy at the thought of him getting his comeuppance, but it doesn’t happen. Kimbrough is allowed to escape as Allison deals with the loss of his friend, Sam, and the realization that what he said about his wife was true. In the end, multiple people are dead, Allison fails in his mission, and the town of Sundown is freed. The town, of course, is happy to celebrate, but for Allison, there is nothing to do but mourn his losses. He leaves Sundown, refusing their thanks, and alone once more.

Buchanan Rides Alone
In this film, Randolph Scott is Tom Buchanan, and you guessed, he rides into town alone. Agry is not a town you want to ride into and stay very long, even the townspeople say so. As soon as Buchanan passes the bridge from Mexico into Agry, he is greeted by a suspicious sheriff who aggressively gets Buchanan off his horse and patted down. Buchanan soon finds that Sheriff Lew Agry isn’t the only unfriendly soul in town, nor is he the only one the town is named after. Lew has two brothers, and while he is sinister, scheming one, his brother, Amos, is too dimwitted to do anything beyond run the hotel, and his other brother, Simon, is the most respected of the brothers and the town judge.

When Simon’s son, Roy, the town hothead and drunk, is shot and killed by Juan de la Vega, a Mexican who had a personal vendetta against Roy, Tom Buchanan gets roped into the town’s politics, and it’s up to him to get de la Vega out of trouble. The brothers Agry’s war amongst themselves sucks in the entire town, as well as the lives of Buchanan and de la Vega, presenting several twists and turns along the way. It all culminates in a nail-biting shootout involving hostages on both sides of the same bridge Buchanan crossed when he entered the town and a saddlebag with $50,000 smack dab in the middle.

Because of how this movie zig-zags throughout and the intense finale, Buchanan Rides Alone may be my favorite out of the Ranown films I’ve watched so far. This one clocks in at 80 minutes, so again, it’s short and sweet, tightly-paced, with several interesting, flawed characters to keep viewers invested. A great film to show those who are skeptical of the Western genre.

Ride Lonesome
Randolph Scott stars as Ben Brigade, a bounty hunter who is after more than just the money when he tracks down and captures wanted criminal, Billy John. In his attempt to get Billy to Santa Cruz, Brigade runs in with a couple of outlaws with their own motivations and a woman who is all alone in the harsh western country. Together, they have to outrun Indians and a band of outlaws (the leader of which is Billy’s brother, Frank), until Brigade’s true intentions are made known.

The film consists of many twists and turns, and the entire time, it’s hard to keep track of the alliances and loyalties between the characters. The film banks on misdirection. Even one of the outlaws, Sam Boone (Pernell Roberts), at the end of the film, claims to Brigade, “Ain’t it funny how a thing can seem one way and turn out another?” Brigade can’t help but agree. Neither can we. Even as the ending comes, and all loose ends are tied, and all the good guys have gotten what they wanted, the film still plays on this misdirection. It was a comedy in the classic sense, right? The happy ending? And then the final shot of the film happens, and you realize what a truly cold revenge story this was.

Burt Kennedy’s script sense shines once again, as the characters are mostly fleshed out, except for the villain, Frank. Even though he’s played by the great Lee Van Cleef, he remains forgettable. The woman and Native American characters are treated the same, but that’s at least a bit more common of the genre. Ride Lonesome is certainly not the best film in this collection, but it is an entertaining one, and probably carries a lot more rewatch value than some of the others.

Comanche Station
In the final film between Scott and Boetticher, Scott plays Jefferson Cody, another man alone on his own personal mission. He rescues a woman from a tribe of Comanches, and rides off with her only to be waylaid by a trio of outlaws – the evil Ben, the scheming Frank, and the dimwitted Dobie. They all ride together for a time, and during that time, Ben and Frank come up with separate plans for how to make off with the woman and a $5000 reward for her safe return. Dobie, of course, follows along but doesn’t come up with any plans of his own or really approve of Frank or Ben’s methods. Cody, meanwhile, claims to know nothing about the reward; he is rescuing the woman, Nancy Lowe, for his own reasons.

Similar themes run rampant in Comanche Station as does through the others in this collection – loyalty, personal honor, the fine line between hero and villain, and it’s chockfull of a few twists and turns along the way. Why is Cody risking his life for Nancy without a thought of the financial reward? Can Nancy believe him when he claims to have no prior knowledge of the reward? What secret is Nancy hiding herself? Are any of the outlaws to be trusted? The finale is as much shocking as it is endearing.

This film and the previous one, Ride Lonesome, were both filmed in CinemaScope, so you get some beautiful wide landscapes of the open range, as well as that sunburned color look, so they look best in the 4K format on the biggest screen you can handle. Scott is often framed to reflect his larger-than-life hero image. The script is once again precise and tight, even if, at this point, it’s familiar territory.

Looking back on the whole collection, I don’t think I would marathon these films in one or two sittings. They benefit from being allowed to breathe. As I alluded to in the paragraph above, by the end of the series, it begins to feel repetitive. The same basic premises, with just enough of a twist to justify being their own releases, and Randolph Scott basically plays the same character in each one (except for Decision At Sundown).

Having said that, I still recommend this set or at least these movies to anyone who likes Westerns, early Revisionist cinema, or wants something to watch under an hour and a half. They look great, especially in Criterion’s new 4K release, and they’re an excellent cap to Randolph Scott’s impressive career. He retired after Comanche Station, only to come out of retirement for Sam Peckinpah’s Ride the High Country before retiring again, for good, but in my opinion, these films are the better closure for his lifetime of moviemaking.

You can purchase the set here from Amazon.

#490 – Wings of Desire

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

“When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” – 1 Corinthians 13:11

God is not directly mentioned in Wim Wenders’ film, Wings of Desire. Neither is the specific passage from the Bible I’ve quoted above. However, both permeate the film as our main character, an angel named Damiel (Bruno Ganz), spends his time staring down at humanity from the top of the Berlin cityscape, contemplating what it means to be human. A poem that he frequently quotes, called “Song of Childhood”, sticks in his mind while he passes through the mortal world, unnoticed…except, of course, by children. Children can see angels, even if they don’t fully comprehend what they’re seeing. Even a girl with glasses – a girl who cannot see on her own – is able to see Damiel as he stands in her house, watching her family live.

Angels are voyeurs in Wenders’ film. They can watch you without you noticing them, and they can hear your thoughts and prayers. Angels know everything about you, and yet, they can do nothing. As Cassiel, another angel that Damiel frequently poses his psychospiritual questions to, basically says, their job isn’t to live or help humans live. Their only responsibility is to observe. Because of this, the life of an angel is very fact-oriented. It’s very black-and-white. Literally. The only time Damiel can see color is when he gets too close to humanity. He goes beyond his responsibility and helps humans feel and change emotionally, and because he has crossed a line, he now is gifted with the knowledge of human limitations.

The movie touches on several themes throughout the film, but one it continually refers back to is this: the untethered freedom the angels have is, ironically, confining. There is joy and pleasure in being limited beings because there is then a mystery to what is beyond those limits. Because their mind, bodies and souls are limited, humans have capacity to experience. Angels are not so lucky. They are distant, as we can see from their point-of-view throughout the film.

Damiel is content to think and ask questions until he sees the trapeze artist, Marion. Once he has seen true beauty as only a human can contain, his black-and-white world is shattered. There is no merely observing any longer. It’s live or die, despite his immortality. Luckily, he also has a brush with the actor, Peter Falk (yes, Peter Falk plays Peter Falk in this movie), who turns out to be a former angel who grew tired of immortality and decided to leave it for the human experience, like a selfish Jesus Christ. Damiel follows in Peter Falk’s footsteps, and abandons his angelic responsibility and immortality to become a human, waking up to a now-colorful Berlin. He meets Marion at a Nick Cave concert, and finally has a knowledge and understanding that no angel ever could.

Wings of Desire is a beautifully shot and thought-provoking film; a staple of the New German Cinema. Wenders manages to dive deep into spiritual questions and somehow, like an angel, keep it at an arm’s length for better examination. The poem, “Song of Childhood”, says, “When the child was a child, it didn’t know it was a child.” Wenders pulls back that curtain, and allows us to see that we are just children, and considering how children are portrayed in the film, isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

For anyone considering watching this movie, I would to emphasize that the film is unapologetically artistic in its expression – it’s meditative – and so it has a rather slow pace. Since the pace is intentional, I can’t really call it a flaw, but slow-burners aren’t for everyone. If you find yourself getting bored with slower films, would rather “turn your brain off and enjoy” a movie (a concept I disagree with entirely, but now’s not the time for that discussion), or you can’t handle subtitles, then you may want to skip this one. And I don’t say that to be pompous or snobby. I just think many people miss out on great cinema because they aren’t willing to challenge themselves. With that said, I encourage any and all who are willing to watch this deeply personal and moving film, whether you are religious, or not, or some ecclesiastical wanderer in the middle.

You can purchase this film <a href="http://<a target="_blank" href="https://www.amazon.com/Wings-Desire-Criterion-Collection-UHD/dp/B0BVXXD9Y2/ref=sr_1_3?keywords=wings+of+desire&qid=1692304127&sprefix=wings+of+des%252Caps%252C211&sr=8-3&_encoding=UTF8&tag=destinedforme-20&linkCode=ur2&linkId=30b1f3000f5407d550fac3bd6b94c874&camp=1789&creative=9325">Wings of Desire 4khere from Amazon.

Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

It feels weird, reviewing a movie that’s been with you since your childhood, and there’s a certain fear that comes with that: Is the movie as good as you remember it? More often than not, you go back to a movie from your past and you stare at the screen in horror over the idea that you ever enjoyed such a thing. And what’s worse, you told people recently that you liked that movie, before you sat yourself down to rewatch it. You have to hang your head in shame, now, around some of your friends because you spent several hours heatedly defending Space Jam. Life, as you knew it, is now over.

But there are other instances, where you return to a film through the eyes of your adult self, and it’s just as good as you remember it. Sometimes better. Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure is one of those movies. With the recent passing of Paul Reubens, a rewatch of the 1985 classic felt necessary. And I am thrilled to say that this film remains one of the best cinematic tales of young love, between a boy and his bike.

Pee-Wee Herman is your normal, everyday acid-trip-induced man-child version of Mister Rogers. He lives in a house with his dog, Speck, covered in gadgets and knick-knacks that overcomplicate the simplest tasks. His entire kitchen is rigged to where you can light a candle and your breakfast is made while you’re off doing something else. As a boy, I always wished for something similar in my future, but the logistics of having such a house seem insurmountable. But above everything else he owns, there is his most cherished possession: a red bicycle with a tiger’s head on the front. And there ain’t no one gonna come between him and that bike.

Paul Reubens saw Tim Burton’s original short, Frankenweenie, and personally requested that he direct this film. His fingerprints are all over the film, too. There are multiple dream sequences, some involving claymation, with black and white, German Expressionism-style set design. There’s a beautiful sunrise seen through the open jaws of a large T-Rex sideshow attraction, complete with jagged teeth framing it. There’s a fun, bouncing score from Danny Elfman, his first music-related project post-Oingo Boingo and his first collaboration of many with Burton. Burton’s style and attitude toward filmmaking are a perfect match for the character of Pee-Wee Herman.

The plot of the movie is hard to describe without sounding absolutely ridiculous, so I might as well just lean into it. All is wonderful in Pee-Wee’s world until he runs into the rich “kid” down the street, Francis Buxton. Buxton wants Pee-Wee’s bike more than anything at the moment and, to get it, he hires a greaser to steal it while Pee-Wee’s out doing a little bit of shopping. Pee-Wee soon realizes that no one is going to help him find his bike (after all, it’s “just a bike”) – not the police, not his friends – so he is on his own. With nowhere else to turn, he meets a fortune teller who tells him his bike is in the basement of the Alamo.

Pee-Wee hitchhikes to Texas with the help of a convict on the run for tearing the tags off mattresses, and a woman truckdriver named Large Marge. Although, this Large Marge lady may not be all that she seems to be. He gets dropped off at an unnamed diner in an unnamed part of the world, and he meets a friendly waitress named Simone. Simone encourages Pee-Wee to keep searching for his bike, and he encourages her to follow her dream of traveling to Paris. Simone’s boyfriend Andy is less understanding of her friendship with Pee-Wee, especially after he overhears them talking about her big “but”. He chases Pee-Wee with a dinosaur bone through a cornfield, forcing Pee-Wee to escape by jumping onto a moving train. He sings old songs with a hobo until he reaches his destination, San Antonio.

Pee-Wee is rightfully disappointed to find out that the Alamo doesn’t even have a basement, and so he’s back to the drawing board. While in San Antonio, he sets a national record in bull-riding. He also suffers from brief amnesia after being thrown from the bull. But don’t you worry, my dear Texans. Pee-Wee may not be able to remember his name, but he remembers the Alamo.

From there, he realizes he needs to get to a phone and call home, so he visits a bar that’s the local hangout of the biker gang, “Satan’s Helpers”. After he knocks over their bikes just outside the bar (which happens in any self-respecting road trip movie), Satan’s Helpers hold him down and debate how they’re going to kill him. He asks for a last request, and is granted it, so he borrows a busboy’s platform shoes and dances on top of the bar to “Tequila” by The Champs. As is expected, this wins over Satan’s Helpers and they offer him one of their bikes so he can travel home. He makes it to the edge of the parking lot before driving into the bar’s streetside signage.

Pee-Wee gets rushed to the hospital and sees a news report on TV that indicates his bike is in Hollywood on a film set. He makes his way to Hollywood, takes back his bike, and flees the Warner Bros. studio lot while being pursued by the entirety of the Warner Bros. security team. He travels through a beach movie, a Christmas movie, a Godzilla movie, a Tarzan movie, and a Twisted Sister music video before successfully escaping with his bike. Unfortunately, his freedom is short-lived. He stops to save all the animals inside a burning pet store, and it is there that he is caught and brought before Warner Bros. execs. Lucky for Pee-Wee, his story is interesting enough to where Warner Bros. wants to make a movie out of it! The film ends at the local drive-in, where all of Pee-Wee’s new friends show up to witness the premiere of this autobiographical movie.

Bonkers, right? Absolutely crazy, but it’s so much fun. The script is tight and throwaway lines earlier on make an appearance again later on. Pee-Wee’s retort to Francis (“I know you are, but what am I?”) is quoted by the film-version of Pee-Wee at the end. When making a police report, Pee-Wee is convinced that “the Soviets” are responsible for his missing bike, and in the fake film, Soviet ninjas are the main villains. It’s smart for knowing that it’s dumb and playing it up. Some scenes are terrifying, or at least were to the younger me – Large Marge, the dream sequences, one involving a T-Rex eating his bike, and another one involving three of a child’s biggest fears: clowns, doctors, and Satan. Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure is a joy to watch. It’s funny, quotable, feverishly ridiculous, and according to my wife, a little creepy, and we have Paul Reubens to thank for all of that.

Verdict: There’s no way I’m getting rid of this movie. Not only am I nostalgic for it, but it really is a great film. Everyone should own a copy.

And you can grab a copy <a href="http://<a target="_blank" href="https://www.amazon.com/Pee-wees-Big-Adventure-Blu-ray/dp/B00596L2UM/ref=tmm_blu_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1692304215&sr=8-2&_encoding=UTF8&tag=destinedforme-20&linkCode=ur2&linkId=36788ec4db0fad9a75dc366251d25abf&camp=1789&creative=9325">pee wee blu rayhere from Amazon (providing it’s in stock).

#1187 – One False Move

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

One False Move is the second film directed by Carl Franklin, and the first to feature themes of the Black experience front and center. The film was co-written by Billy Bob Thornton, who portrays Ray, a criminal who, along with his partner, Pluto, and girlfriend, Fantasia, murder six people in a single night in LA as they seek a hidden stash of cocaine and cash. Ray and Pluto are willing to murder innocent neighbors just to cover their tracks. Fantasia is seemingly along for the ride. From LA, they make their way down to Houston to sell the cocaine to an acquaintance of Pluto’s.

Two LA detectives are investigating the case, and discover their suspects might be heading toward Star City, Arkansas, so they reach out to the local authority, Dale Dixon (though everyone calls him “Hurricane”), played by Bill Paxton. Dixon might be crazy, but he’s a good ol’ country boy, and he’s thrilled at the opportunity to do what he considers “real” police work. Dixon’s giddiness at working with the big boys provides the first half of the film with some comic relief. One particular scene involves Dixon trying to interrogate a local chicken farmer who is getting too old and deaf to be properly interrogated. It’s a little slice of Southern charm amidst the blood and carnage.

Ray, Pluto and Fantasia stop at a convenience store in the middle of nowhere, where their likenesses can be seen via security footage and a highway patrolman can get a good look at them. The patrolman pulls them over on their way out, and as things get heated, Fantasia shoots him. No longer an innocent bystander, Fantasia panics and takes off to Star City on her own, hoping to reunite with her son while she still has time. Dixon also sets out on his own in an attempt to catch Fantasia, whose real name is Lila, before the detectives do. He finds her in a little house in the middle of nowhere, and there, it is revealed that Lila’s son, Byron, is Dixon’s from an affair some years ago. Lila, at the time of their affair, was young, only 17, and criticizes Dixon for taking advantage of a young, Black woman who can’t say no to a cop. I guess Dixon is not as good as, and more country than we previously expected.

The tension builds as a montage set to a lone bluesy harmonica plays. We see Ray and Pluto driving toward the house where Lila and Dixon are waiting; Dixon’s deputy, Byron, and the two LA detectives are hunting for Dixon and Lila; Dixon’s wife and daughter are at home, anticipating Dixon’s safe return. Then, the shooting happens, and it’s all over too quickly.

This film, despite some of the names attached, was originally intended to be released straight to video. However, through word of mouth, it developed enough of a following to come out in theaters in 1992. It didn’t fair well at the Box Office, but through home video, it has survived. It’s unfortunate that a film like this flew under the radar. It’s an excellent crime drama, keeping you on the edge of your seat the entire time, and drawing attention to the disparity between Whites and Blacks in a Southern Rural town. Paxton turns on a dime when it’s revealed that the happy-go-lucky police chief isn’t what we thought he was. Cynda Williams shines as both killer and victim. Michael Beach is terrifying as the ruthless Pluto, who keeps his weapon of choice, a knife, up his sleeve at all times. Billy Bob Thornton is a little unbelievable as the earring-wearing, cocaine-addicted Ray, but he got better as an actor as time went on.

One False Move is a near-perfect Neonoir. It’s character-focused, multilayered, the violence is intentional and necessary, and it moves with purpose. Franklin proves his talent that he later perfects with Devil in a Blue Dress, which I’m sure I will review at some point, and this film acts as Exhibit A as to why he is one of the underrated masters. Do yourself a favor and watch this movie.

You can purchase a copy <a href="http://<a target="_blank" href="https://www.amazon.com/One-False-Move-Criterion-Collection/dp/B0C2JJCJ2V/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=one+false+move+4k&qid=1692304343&sprefix=one+false+mov%252Caps%252C218&sr=8-1&_encoding=UTF8&tag=destinedforme-20&linkCode=ur2&linkId=83aca5a646d8f2f97b5271c206f0ad30&camp=1789&creative=9325">one false move 4khere from Amazon.

Barbie

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

Barbie has all the subtlety of an atomic bomb, but maybe that’s a good thing. It wants to make a statement on so many things – identity and humanity, womanhood in a patriarchal society, manhood in a matriarchal society, corporate branding and influence, superficiality versus substance, and quite a bit more – and for the most part, it does well, relying on its intelligence to circumvent its need for eloquence.

This is a movie for modern times. It’s feminist, it’s self-referential and breaks the fourth wall frequently, and it overuses or misuses words like “patriarchy” and “fascist”. Despite your personal views on some those things, Barbie is a lot of fun. It’s beautiful to look at, vibrant and very pink. Think of Set Design and Cinematography come Oscar season. The introduction to Barbie Land, complete with an opening song from Lizzo (because, duh) that describes the jokes we’re seeing onscreen, is so cute and bubblegum-pop, it might make you nauseous, like the kid who eats all their candy and then gets on the loopiest of rollercoasters. But, hey, wasn’t that cotton candy delicious?

The very beginning of the film includes a parody of the opening scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey, replacing the apes for little girls with baby dolls, and the obelisk with a giant Margot Robbie that is sure to give the film’s detractors some very weird fantasies. From that introduction, we’re introduced to our lead character, Barbie, or “Stereotypical Barbie”, as she is sometimes referred to. Her life is perfect. Everyday, she gets up, and goes to the beach with the other Barbies and all of the Kens, and then every night is Girl’s Night. Though, maybe all is not as it seems, because in the middle of a nationwide dance party, Barbie asks the question, “Do any of you ever think about dying?”

From here, the movie becomes a blend of The Lego Movie (Will Ferrell even plays another CEO of Business-type), A Matter of Life and Death, and Wings of Desire (the Wim Wenders film about an angel who just wants to be human – if you haven’t seen this one, you may have seen the John Travolta-led, romcom remake, Michael). Barbie must find out why she’s having this existential crisis by traveling to the Real World and confronting the girl who is playing with her. Ken, whose entire existence is made on acknowledgement from Barbie and whose occupation is simply “Beach”, sneaks into her car and joins her on her venture of self-discovery.

Ryan Gosling as Ken is the highlight of this film. He’s so funny and charming, even when he’s tiptoeing towards misogynistic or incel behavior. In the Real World, he discovers that a world dominated by men can be fun and exciting, and you can’t help but love him, even as he gleefully returns to Barbie Land and transforms it into Kendom, or explains the necessity of referring to his takeover of Barbie’s Dreamhome into his “Mojo Dojo Casa House”.

Meanwhile, Stereotypical Barbie has to get back to Barbie Land and fix what Ken is doing with the help of a mother-daughter duo that have their own problems to work out. The director, Greta Gerwig, whose other films include Lady Bird and the most recent remake of Little Women, usually shines with the mother-daughter dynamic, but in Barbie, it gets lost amid the jokes and winks to the audience. They really don’t bring much to the table until the mother, Gloria (played by America Ferrera), has an epiphany and monologues all the well-trodden issues that women face in a male-dominated society, thus breaking all the other Barbies out of their patriarchy-induced trance. This is where the lack of subtlety actually works in the movie’s favor. In another movie, this speech would have completely stopped the film. The things Gloria says are true, but they are delivered in the most awkward, parent-scolding-their-child-way possible.

In the end, Barbie is nothing like its critics have described it. It is not antithetical to its feminist grounding, but it is also not man-hating “woke” garbage. The film is smart enough to be critical and understanding of both sides – maybe too understanding at times to be overly critical (Stereotypical Barbie apologizes to Ken for not giving him enough attention at one point). Legally Blonde maybe did it better, but that doesn’t diminish the enjoyment of this movie. It has a little something for everybody. It’s cool, it’s fun, it’s hilarious. It’s cotton candy. Closer, it is, to “fine” than “great”, but that still means it’s “good”, and sometimes, that’s Kenough.

Rating: 6/10

Oppenheimer

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

“Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to man. For this he was chained to a rock and tortured for eternity.” This quote, surrounded by the flames produced by an atomic bomb, begin a three-hour analysis of the complicated scientist, J. Robert Oppenheimer. The movie, inspired by the biography on Oppenheimer, American Prometheus, will never let you forget that comparison. Thankfully, it’s the only clue the film presents on where its opinion of its subject lies.

Instead of taking a stance on the long-running debate over whether Oppenheimer was a good or bad person, the film smartly keeps its namesake at an arm’s length. Christopher Nolan does this with most of his movies, with varying degrees of success, but with this one, it works. Film, like any art form, can show skill, produce emotion, and change perception, and you can see it within the work and style of any auteur. Nolan, however, sees himself less as an artist, and more as a scientist. In this regard, Nolan’s films are more like textbooks. They are a cold and distant presentation of facts, events and theories. Sure, there is art there, but it comes in the form of figures and illustrations of those theories. You can see this in the slight-of-camera work in The Prestige, or the three-tiered dreaming climax of Inception, or how The Protagonist is just as confused about the plot of Tenet as the audience is. In Oppenheimer, images of light, stars, blackholes, and apocalyptic pillars of fire engulf the screen, showcasing their vastness by covering every inch of the IMAX filmstock on which it was produced. See Figure 1.

Speaking of which, Oppenheimer is the first film ever to require black and white IMAX filmstock, which brings me back to the movie itself. From the beginning, we are presented with two timelines, Fission and Fusion. For those, like myself, who need a refresher on high school science, Fission splits a larger atom into smaller pieces to create energy. Fusion joins smaller atoms into a larger one to create even more energy. The Fission timeline is in color, following Oppenheimer’s rise to prominence, while the Fusion timeline is the breakdown of his power and influence, and is in black and white. A contradiction to add to the list. Oppenheimer: the man who can both agree and disagree with his country, bringer of fire and destroyer of worlds, punished by the gods and a god, himself.

Running these two timelines simultaneously, we know from the start that not all ends well for Oppie (as he is referred to by his colleagues) – perhaps a pro to covering a historical figure with whom so much is already written about – and with that information out of the way, Nolan is free to explore that contradictory nature. And in here lies what makes the film great. The moment the bomb drops, and you think, “this is what it was all leading up to”, you realize you still have an hour left of this movie, and there are still many twists and turns in the road ahead.

The cinematography is gorgeous. Again, “vast” is the word. Los Alamos is a beautiful desert setting surrounded by mountains as far as the eye can see. The colors are vibrant. After the bomb is dropped, and Oppenheimer realizes the gravity of what he’s created, the background behind him shakes violently. A bomb is going off in his mind. A vision of the crowd of scientists applauding his leadership and work ignites into pure desolation – an image of the carnage the atom bomb will inflict. Those cheers, a cacophony of sound, rise in their intensity until that mental bomb drops and it all dissolves into the scream of a single woman. My words can’t do it justice. This sequence is the best in the entire movie.

Cillian Murphy does well as J. Robert Oppenheimer. He has always been good at playing subdued or distracted characters, and he gets to lean into that here. But for me, the great standout is Robert Downey Jr., who shines as Lewis Strauss. To avoid spoilers, I won’t say too much here, but I will concede that he outperforms anyone he shares screentime with. He should have won an Oscar for Chaplin, but the least the Academy could do is give him one now. Together, Murphy and Downey Jr. are like two scorpions in a bottle.

Ultimately, there is little to complain about with Oppenheimer. Nolan treats the Father of the Atomic Bomb with the respect the title deserves – not worthy of sympathy, reverence or disdain; simultaneously incredible and horrible, much like the fire he brought down to the world.

Rating: 8/10

No Hard Feelings

/ Chase Clark / Leave a comment

No Hard Feelings is a Raunch Com starring Jennifer Lawrence and Andrew Barth Feldman. Lawrence plays Maddie Barker, a 32-year-old who makes her money bartending and driving an Uber, who loses her car over unpaid property tax. Desperate for transportation (you can’t Uber on rollerskates very well), she responds to an ad on Craigslist that conveniently offers a car to any young woman who is willing to date their son and give him some good “life experience” before he goes off to college. Helicopter parents who want their son to get laid before he leaves the house. That makes sense.

Maddie has a tough road ahead, however, because Feldman’s Percy Becker is antisocial, a stickler for the rules, and afraid of the beach because of what might be in the water. She’s going to have to use more than just her body to seduce Percy. She’s going to have to actually get to know the man inside the awkward boy. Lucky for her, he’s irresistibly charming once you get past the shy, nerdy exterior and you also randomly open up about your daddy issues. The movie speedruns the falling-in-love portion of the movie, moving at a breakneck pace, only to come to a halt and give the audience severe whiplash in the transition to the third act.

Beneath the surface of this superficial comedy, there is a tender, beating heart. The cliches haven’t changed. You still shouldn’t judge a book by its cover and get to know and love someone for who they are instead of what you can get out of the deal. Sweet sentiments, if all too familiar.

I’m noticing a trend in Hollywood lately. There are a lot of movies coming out that are “Based on a True Story” (or, in this film’s case, almost Based on a True Story), that are not really worth having made. Just this year alone, we have Cocaine Bear, Tetris, Flamin’ Hot (a movie about the creation of Hot Cheetos), and The Beanie Bubble. It’s a dark time we live in when the people behind Beanie Babies get their own movie. If you like stuff like that, or are really into sex comedies, No Hard Feelings might be for you. The one thing it did for me was reminding me that there is nothing funnier than awkward humor for its own sake…except for any other type of humor.

Rating: 2/10